


Love Bites So Deep

by bagheerita



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Animal Death, Background Character Death, Bathing/Washing, Dubious Morality, Episode: s03e07 Common Ground, Gift of Life (Stargate), Hair Brushing, Healing, Hot Springs & Onsen, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wraith Feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagheerita/pseuds/bagheerita
Summary: Well I guess we can never be friends; I ate you up the day we first spoke.
Relationships: John Sheppard/Todd the Wraith
Comments: 25
Kudos: 75
Collections: Oh for the love of Todd!





	Love Bites So Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neinka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neinka/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [Neinka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neinka/pseuds/Neinka) in the [Todd_fanworks_challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Todd_fanworks_challenge) collection. 



> _**Prompt:**  
>  I always wondered how the events of Common Ground would go if Ladon and Atlantis team didn't figure out where the Kolya's base is.  
> Todd (who is not named yet) just gave John the Gift of Life. And now what? Search for the gate? Hide somewhere and hope Johns people will show up? Get back to base and try to assassinate Kolya? Find natural hot springs and finally take a bath? Go wild!  
> It can be Gen but I would much prefer undertones of something more from both of our boys :)_
> 
> I loved your prompt but wasn't sure I had a solid idea for a story... but then I was listening to [Walk the Moon's "Tiger Teeth"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zgEaJw1wEB0) (the lyrics of which I've shamelessly removed from their original context and viewed through a fandom lens to comprise both the title and summary of this fic) when I thought of your prompt and went back to read it again, and upon realizing you had specifically mentioned a _hot springs_... um, well, here we are.  
> Also, the summary is a lyric from the song, but I feel like it spoke to me in the way it did because, while I don’t think all of Spike’s words are necessarily applicable, some parallels can be drawn to [Spike's "you'll never be friends" speech from BtVS: "Lovers Walk."](https://youtu.be/t9_tjEVvyjw) :)
> 
> With many thanks to Eos for giving this a quick beta read! <3

John can barely move. His breath wheezes in and he has no strength left- he's been sucked dry of everything but a thread of his life and his limbs feel as coordinated and mobile as wood. The Wraith leans over him and John bares his teeth. "Finish it," he hisses. 

The Wraith smiles at him. "John Sheppard," he says, the words almost tender. "As I have said, there are many things you do not know about Wraith." He reaches out his hand and lays it on John's chest. 

John feels the bite of the Wraith's feeding orifice latching on, and inhales sharply, trying to prepare himself. This is it, this is the end, and… 

He exhales a wild scream as he _doesn't_ die, the Wraith not draining his life, but filling him with wild energy- _returning_ it to him. It ripples through him, sizzling through his veins and he feels new, reborn, ready to take on Kolya's entire army of thugs. 

He gasps his way to his feet and whirls around to face the Wraith. 

The Wraith grins. 

They stare at each other long enough that the grin starts to fall. 

"Did I not tell you?" the Wraith hisses. 

"Yeah," is the only response John can find in him. His hand is on his chest, feeling the reassuring thrumming of his heart going steadily, so he's _probably_ not actually dead- or if he's hallucinating it's a damn convincing one. He hears a voice shouting, and John says, "We should keep moving."

The Wraith pushes himself to his feet with ease- a strong counterpoint to his stumbling steps last night, before he'd eaten an entire patrol of Kolya's men. 

And used that energy to apparently heal himself _and_ John.

"I didn't know you could do that," John says, but he doesn't want to care so he says it as he's turning away and slinging the rifle strap over his shoulder.

"The gift of life is usually reserved for only our most devout worshippers," the Wraith says.

John pauses to turn and give him a skeptical expression.

The Wraith smirks and adds, "Or our brothers."

John breathes out. 

There's not really anything he has to say to that, so he takes in their surroundings. There doesn't appear to be any break in the trees as far as the late morning sunlight lets him see. He's not actually sure what time it is; being mostly dead for a chunk of the morning has thrown off his usual handle on that and, of course, Kolya took his watch. 

They should put some distance between them and the evidence of their presence- John almost trips over a drained corpse- and then circle back around and try to come at the gate from a different angle. Assuming the gate is close to where they came up from underground. He sighs again. "Come on."

The Wraith doesn't seem interested in helping as far as choosing a direction, so John puts the sun on his left and settles into a quick jog.

* * *

His sense of time is still a bit off but it's only been about an hour before clouds roll over the sky and the temperature starts to drop.

"Great," John grunts. "If that's a cold front, it'll probably start raining. Just what I wanted to deal with today."

It starts raining. The Wraith levels an unimpressed look at John. 

"Hey, _I_ didn't do anything!" John shivers. "We should keep moving." 

"Yes," the Wraith hisses, and this time he takes the lead. 

John sighs. There's not much else to do and he follows. 

The rain is intermittent, but the air stays cold and damp. During a relatively dry patch, after having fought their way through a thicket and as they start across a more open area, John slips on a slick patch of leaves and lands on his ass in mud up to his hips. The Wraith comes back to look down at him. John feels like the jolt of energy he got this morning is well faded under the repeated drainings of the hours that preceded it- and the fact that it's been at least a day since he's eaten anything and even longer since it was an actual meal. He glares at the Wraith, but there isn't much heat to it.

The Wraith smirks. He offers his left hand to help John get up. 

John glares at it mistrustfully. The Wraith's hand is open against the dim light of the rainy afternoon, his left palm obviously without the danger his right holds. 

The Wraith chuckles, a dry sound against the wet landscape, and withdraws his hand. He moves to begin walking away.

John's about to say something stupid, like _it's not that I don't trust you, I just need a minute_ , but in the moment before he speaks a huge creature jumps out of a tree and lands on the Wraith, bearing him to his knees with the force of its leap. The Wraith roars, a sound of surprise that morphs into pain and anger.

"Shit," John hisses, and he's reaching for the rifle he'd thrown over his shoulder. He's not familiar with the Genii model but all the important stuff is in the same place and his hands find their way to the grip, the rifle tucked to his shoulder as he aims it and pulls the trigger. The creature looks like a bear with aspirations of being a tiger and he hits it dead center of mass, between its hunched shoulders. 

He doesn't see what happens after that because there's another one flying through the air at _him_ , and he swings the rifle around at this new creature. It's too close to shoot but he jams the barrel of the rifle under its chin, preventing it from sinking its massively long canine teeth into him, and instead burning it with the heated metal barrel. He can't really stop the creature's claws and he gasps in pain as they slice deep into his stomach.

The creature snarls, thwarted, pressing down on him, its claws digging in. The weight of it suddenly is lifted away, and John sucks in a deep breath only to gasp it back out as the pain spreads through him. The Wraith is holding the creature with one hand. Something cracks with the certain sound of bone and then the Wraith is leaning over John. "Sheppard," he says- or John thinks that's what the Wraith says, but his hands are wet with his own blood and he can't breathe and his hearing might be a little iffy. 

The Wraith fits his hand against John's chest and John can't even find the energy to protest that he's not going to make much of a meal like this as he's probably already set for dying a slower way, but it ends up not mattering because the Wraith doesn't suck the rest of his life out- instead he shoves that healing energy back _in_. 

John's panting with the ecstasy of it, the heady sensation of the cessation of pain. He half sits up, both hands wrapped around the Wraith's arm as he stares up at him wildly.

The Wraith grunts and leans over John, listing to one side as he pushes himself to his feet. The gashes in his coat where the creature attacked him are still slowly oozing thick black fluid, especially a pair of deep wounds on his shoulder, which John can confirm, having gotten a good look when the thing tried to bite him, match the creature's fangs exactly. 

The Wraith can barely heal himself and he's spent his energy on John. "Why?" John asks. 

The Wraith bares his teeth. "We are brothers," he says, like it's a stupid question. 

The Wraith looks up suddenly, and John hears it, too- two, maybe three, people headed their way. John's hands tighten into fists. He's essentially weaponless, the rifle having fallen in the mud and now useless as anything other than a club until he can clean it and reload it. He's healed of his wounds but he still feels weak, and his clothes still look like he's about five minutes from bleeding out. He frowns down at himself. 

"How many?" John asks.

"Two," the Wraith says with certainty and John shivers. "We can evade them," he offers. 

John raises an eyebrow at him. "Are they Kolya's men?" he asks. "Can you tell?" 

The Wraith bares his teeth and hisses, " _Yes_." 

John nods. He lays back down in the mud, arranging his bloodied clothing so that it covers the fact that he's not actually still bleeding, and makes a shooing motion at the Wraith before letting his body go lax, his eyes holding half shut. He doesn't hear the Wraith leave but he hears the soldiers approach.

"Over here," one of them calls. "The barsa got him, looks like." 

John hears the other man grunt, boots squelching as they step into John's line of sight. "Just need to find the damn Wraith then."

The first man's only response is a slight gurgle.

John opens his eyes. The second man is standing over his position, rifle raised and pointed at something on John's other side- presumably the Wraith eating the first man.

John kicks the soldier in the solar plexus and then slams his muddied rifle into the man's knee, tackling him when he falls to the ground and straddling his body. The man is fighting him, but John is using his weight leaned on the rifle pressed across the soldier's chest to keep the other man's arms away from getting hold of him. The soldier is snarling angrily, until his expression becomes one of horror. John's not really surprised to feel the Wraith leaning around him, his chest almost touching John's back as he inserts his arm in between where John's are pressing, his hand coming to rest on the soldier's chest. The man screams as the Wraith's feeding orifice latches on.

The man shrivels before John's eyes and he can't help but think that it's happening a lot faster than he'd thought it would- than it felt like it had happened, when he was on the other side of it. And this time the Wraith is humming in his ear, a happy almost purring sound. 

"Come," the Wraith says as he finishes and stands. "We should leave this place." 

John stands and looks around. The open space is strewn with bodies, two human ones and the two creatures, and blood and gore from the creature's attack. He just says, "Yeah," and starts running after the Wraith. 

The rain continues off and on again through the afternoon. John’s tired, and he mostly follows the Wraith. He wonders why the Wraith suddenly gained an interest in giving a shit about where they’re going. He wonders why the Wraith healed him when it could have eaten him. He sees the face of the soldier flash before his eyes as John had held him down and the Wraith had drained his life.

John recognized the soldier from Kolya’s bunker and he'd relished kicking the guy in the gut instead of being on the receiving end of the same. He doesn’t regret basically feeding the pair of soldiers to the Wraith, but he can’t stop seeing the man’s look of horror. 

They're out of the forest and onto more rocky ground when the Wraith stops moving. John looks up to see an overhang of rock with an open space beneath it that appears to lead into a cave, and a stream bubbling up from the ground which opens into a pool of water that seems to be covered in a mat of wet fur. He wonders if some large creature drowned in the pool or something, but a nose rises up out of the rest of the fur and a high pitched noise seems to indicate that he and the Wraith have been spotted. The mat of fur separates into a group of small creatures that look not unlike long-haired dachshunds if they thought they were raccoons. They bare teeth at John and chatter loudly as they scamper off in between, and up, the surrounding trees. 

John steps closer to trail a hand in the pool of water; it’s _warm_ and he, bedraggled and having almost died twice today, _really_ wants to dive in. It smells faintly of sulfur and he suspects it's a natural hot spring.

But it _also_ smells like wet fur and bears signs of being a long time favorite hangout of the long-haired creatures, namely fruit seeds and bits of chewed leaves in the water, and what looks like it used to be food until it came out the south end of a northbound… raccoon-dog. He frowns. He has a vague feeling that raccoon dogs are an actual thing so he should probably find something else to call these, but that sounds like a job for a man who isn’t covered in mud, sweat, and his own blood.

The Wraith moves past John, stepping over the bubbling spring and walking into the cave. “Sheppard,” he calls, and John walks forward hesitantly, following him inside. The interior of the cave smells much more strongly of sulfur which might explain why the furry creatures seem to have made do with the outer pool. There’s enough light from outside that he can see a short way into the cave, and he raises the newer rifle he stole from the Wraith’s most recent victims to see if he can see more using the scope’s light. 

He hears the Wraith scoff at him and John lowers the rifle. 

“Come in,” the Wraith says. 

John huffs a weak attempt at a laugh and mutters, “Said the spider to the fly?” He reaches out a hand and tries to feel his way along the wall, moving slowly so as not to trip. He’s pretty sure he’s going to fall flat on his face anyway, but as he comes around a rocky corner, suddenly there’s light in the cave.

It opens up more and there’s a large cavern, maybe twenty feet across and closer to thirty feet high in places, the floor space mostly filled with a series of three pools of water, one of which is steaming and bubbling. But the most striking thing about the cavern is that the ceiling is _glowing_. It looks like the uneven stone is covered by… some kind of crawling, glowing insects, and John shifts his feet. “Is this… this can’t be safe.” He steps backward. 

“Are you frightened of the larvae?” the Wraith asks him, amused. The Wraith has taken off his coat and is examining all the fun new holes it’s gained today.

“I’m a little worried about all the bugs in this galaxy wanting to _eat me_ ,” John hisses back. In the light from the bugs he can see the dark, woven cloth of the Wraith’s shirt and the way that darkness contrasts with the wraith’s pale skin as he raises his arms, holding the coat up; light shines through its many holes. John pauses and takes a breath. “But Iratus don’t glow, so I’m guessing these are different?”

The Wraith looks amused. “You have seen an Iratus nest and lived to speak of it? Truly, John Sheppard, you grow _more_ interesting the longer I know you. You are most unique among humans.” He folds his coat and sets it aside, kneeling to untie his boots. 

“What are you doing?” John asks. 

“I intend to bathe in the pool.” The Wraith looks at him. “Will you join me?” He stands and looks behind John, to the cave’s opening. “The small creatures of the outer pool have a high pitched cry that will warn us if any should approach.”

A bath sounds really nice, but John hadn’t thought about _sharing_ it. "You want to-" His words trail off as the Wraith takes off his boots. 

It's a weirdly vulnerable thing, to be without shoes. And he's never seen _any_ Wraith take off _any_ of their clothing. So it's just _weird_ too. But the Wraith doesn't seem to care as he sets his boots next to the folded coat and pulls his shirt over his head.

His skin looks even paler in the cave's glow, marred with the patchwork shadow of prominent veins, and darker in places with dried blood from this morning's attack- and what has to be years of accumulated dirt. There is a tattoo of interlocking black marks across one shoulder, and the ridge of his spine breaks the flat plane of the Wraith's back like a sea serpent breaching the surface of the ocean.

He must feel John's curious gaze, because he turns to face John. His chest is more solid planes of muscle leading down to a flat stomach. The Wraith's golden eyes glow as they meet John's and his hands continue in their task, moving to unfasten his trousers.

John flushes and looks away, though not before he catches sight of greenish-grey skin over the curve of the Wraith's hip. John feels unsettled. He's just keeping an eye on the most dangerous person in the room, right? It's not about … well, it's just definitely _not_. John hears the sound of something breaking the surface of the water and he chances a look back to see the Wraith standing in the middle of the three pools, the water up to his stomach. He sighs happily, sinking until the water laps over his shoulders.

"The water nice?" John asks. 

The Wraith grins at him before lowering himself entirely beneath the surface, his glowing eyes breaking through the water. 

John chuckles. He definitely understands the pleasure that comes from being immersed in water, though in Afghanistan cold water was more prized than hot springs would have been. He moves to the pool that's closest to him. The farthest one's surface is bubbling and the second one has the Wraith in it, but he lowers his hand to the surface of the close one and cautiously touches it. It's warm, but not _too_ hot. He sets aside his rifle and starts taking off his own clothes. He knocks what mud he can off his boots. His socks are probably a lost cause, but he sets them aside to try to rinse out. His jacket isn't too bad apart from a bloodied slash on the front, but there's not much left to the front half of his shirt. He drops it next to the socks. He's undoing the fastening on his BDU pants, but he's also listening. He hasn't heard the Wraith come up for air. Is he trying to drown himself? He's probably fine; he can probably hold his breath forever. Is he… trying to give John privacy? That's a stupid thought. John sucks in a breath and looks over. Those glowing eyes are looking directly at him from under the water. 

John glowers back, pulls off his pants, and steps into the water. His boxers need to be washed anyway, so he leaves them on. 

The water feels warmer than he'd first thought once he's immersed in it, and the pool floor is uneven and mostly a lot deeper than he's comfortable with. But once he gets himself and his laundry good and as scrubbed as possible without soap, John lays out his clothes beside the pool to dry and leans back against the rocky edge to let the heat soak into his muscles. He looks over at his companion. 

The Wraith had come up, while John had been trying to see if he could scrub the dirt out of his socks, looking no worse for wear. He'd attempted to rinse his own clothes after John's example, with apparently greater success as he'd been humming pleasantly for most of the process. As John watches now, the Wraith is combing his long, clawed fingers through his hair, picking out tangles. Honestly, his hair looks a mess and it might be easier to cut it and start over. There's a large tangle at the back that it's difficult for him to reach.

"Did-" The word feels strange, breaking through the cave sounds and the sounds of moving water, that first pool still bubbling happily almost in chorus with the Wraith's humming. John clears his throat. "Did you want a hand with that?" 

The Wraith looks at him for a long moment, his expression evaluative before he grins. "If you were Wraith I would ask which hand you offered," he replies.

John snorts. "But since I'm _not_ , I'll go ahead and say that it's both." He holds both hands out of the water, his bare palms visible, before letting them drop.

The Wraith stands. "This pool is perhaps too warm. I will come to you." The last is said almost like an offer that can still be turned down, and John just grunts in acknowledgment. He shifts over so that he's sitting up higher, with space for the Wraith to sit in front of him. 

He tells himself he doesn't look as the long, lean body rises out of the water, but it's not exactly the truth. 

The Wraith walks over to John's pool and steps in, sliding over smoothly and turning so that his back touches John's drawn up knees, the strange ridge of his spine fitting in between.

John breathes in. He reaches out and touches the Wraith's shoulder. His skin is smooth, moist from the water and cool even in the humid air. John's got crazy thoughts running through his head, the main one inevitably being that the Wraith is vulnerable and John should be using this moment to his advantage, to try to gain an upper hand, or try to learn something useful that will help them fight Wraith in the future. But his hand touches the Wraith’s skin and his thoughts turn back to the feel of the Wraith’s hand on his chest, the energy filling him as he _doesn’t_ die, twice. Sure, he’ll need one more if they’re going to call it _even_ , but it’s not like Kolya’s here, or anyone, to force the Wraith to do that. To do anything other than what he _wants_ to do. 

John stirs himself from his contemplation and moves his hand to the Wraith’s hair. The Wraith is really tall, and John murmurs, “Um, hold on, let me just,” as he shifts his position until he’s sitting on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water. He’s high enough up to be looking down at the Wraith, who is looking down in turn at the water, waiting patiently. John snorts under his breath; for all him thinking about vulnerability the Wraith could probably still kill him without breaking a sweat. John tries to stop thinking and he sets to picking the knotted hairs apart. 

“You should just cut it off,” he mutters at one point as he separates a group of hairs from what seems to be matted blood. 

The Wraith shifts his weight. “Our hair grows very slowly,” he says. John can feel the rumble of his voice against where his back is touching John’s lower legs. The words are offered thoughtfully, but John thinks he sees the point to them.

“It would be a reminder,” John says. “A scar.” He feels the Wraith tense against him. “You heal too fast to scar, but…” John trails off, because he’s kind of found what he was looking for. An “advantage,” though he’s not sure he’s comfortable with that kind of psychological warfare. His gut twists- there had been “Michael,” but that had been for the charade, not because they knew… Though maybe it was another reason he’d turned on them. “I think I can get it out,” is what he says. 

He can feel the pressure against his shins lessen as the tension leaves the Wraith’s back. 

It takes him what feels like hours, but John gets the last of the knots and mats out. “There,” he says, feeling satisfied. It feels nice to accomplish something, even if it’s just finger-combing what might be his own blood, or the blood of countless other human beings, out of the hair of the guy who tried to eat him. He shivers, but that’s probably because he’s sitting naked in a cave. The Wraith moves away from him and John slips all the way back into the water to warm up.

The Wraith ducks under the water to give his hair a last rinse before rising back up. He looks at John but doesn’t speak as he moves to get out of the pool. 

John exhales and decides it’s past time to get dressed himself. The good thing about spending hours combing the Wraith’s hair means that his clothes are dry, even in the relatively humid cave. His socks are still gritty when he puts them on, and his shirt isn’t worth wearing so he just zips his jacket closed and shoves the rag in his pocket, but everything else is fine. 

When he’s done, he turns to find the Wraith looking at his torn up coat with a slightly forlorn expression. It kind of makes John wish he knew how to sew, but he pushes that down because he fixed the guy’s hair, _what more could he want_?

John moves to the outer cave and looks out at the terrain.

It’s nighttime, so everything is dark, and it’s still cold but it’s stopped raining. He looks up; the clouds have cleared away and he can see stars.

He hears a pleased sigh behind him and tries not to jump. It’s just the Wraith that he was well aware was behind him. No need to be alarmed. John snorts and turns to the Wraith.

The Wraith is looking up at the stars, expression soft with something like contentment. John remembers the Wraith’s words from last night- _was that only last night?_ \- resigned to the failure of their escape attempt, saying, _It was worth it, to see the sky again._

“We should sleep,” John observes. He moves to the side of the cave opening and leans against the rocky outcropping that is the outside of the cave. For reasons he doesn't want to examine going back inside, underground, doesn't appeal. He doesn’t really feel tired, but he also doesn't feel hungry even though his stomach is echoing with emptiness, so he’s not sure how his body is dealing with everything that it’s been put through and he should try to sleep anyway. He sinks down to sit against the rock. “You want first watch or second?”

“You may rest, Sheppard,” the Wraith says. “I do not require sleep at this time and will keep the watch.”

“You seemed like you needed it last night,” John can’t help but sound a little skeptical.

The Wraith grins. “I was wounded and starving,” he reminds John. “Having fed since then, and fed well, I do not need to sleep more.”

John could kick himself. For a hot minute, he’d forgotten- impossible as it seemed- he’d forgotten that they aren’t just escaping together, that he’d helped feed people to the Wraith that had tried to eat _him_. “Great. I’m sure I’ll sleep well with that reminder.” John lays down. He’s a little cold so he probably won’t sleep anyway. But his eyes close as soon as he lays his head against a rocky pillow.

* * *

John wakes up feeling pretty warm. There’s something draped over him and covering his face, and, when he lifts his hand to push it back, he’s washed in sunlight. 

The air is a bit chilly, so he guesses it’s still early morning- that the sun peeking over the trees at him is rising, not setting. John looks at the object that was covering him; it’s the Wraith’s coat. 

The Wraith is sitting not far away, his long legs crossed under him and lean arms held out, hands resting easily on his knees. His head is tilted back, his eyes closed against the light. He says, "I can hear your mind's thoughts, John Sheppard."

John automatically reaches for a knife he doesn't have. "Stay out of my head."

The Wraith smirks. "I am not 'in' your head, but rather I can sense the tenor of your mind change as your thoughts come more awake." He opens his eyes, the narrow slits of his pupils far too amused for this early in the morning. "The presence of your sleeping mind was very restful."

John scowls. "I thought you said you didn't need to sleep."

The Wraith grins. "I was listening." He looks around. "Kolya's men are far from here."

"That means we're far away from the gate," John points out. 

"Mmm," is the Wraith's only comment on that.

"We're going to need two people to lay down a crossfire," John reiterates. "When we reach the gate."

The Wraith nods. He looks thoughtful. 

"Come on," John says. He gets to his feet. He holds out the coat to the Wraith. 

The Wraith stands, reaching out with his right hand to take the coat. John braces himself, watching the flicker of patterns of flesh revealed to him as the Wraith moves, his hand spreading and grasping the coat. 

He doesn't touch John. Which, John wasn't expecting him to. Really. But he breathes out a long, slow breath as the Wraith turns to put the coat on. 

They start moving back toward the way they'd come, back toward the forest. There's a good section of open, rocky ground first. The openness feels exposing, though they can move faster without worrying about trees. The Wraith stays close and John is reasonably confident that if he _does_ get shot he'll live through it. The Wraith doesn't seem to want him to die. It's because he recognizes the benefits of having a suppressive crossfire, probably. Nothing else. 

There's a point, after a long stretch of time, where the trees don't seem to have changed at all and there's no sign they're close to _anything_ much less the gate or Kolya's place, and John says, "I already have a brother. Can't say we get on very well." 

The Wraith laughs. "And you expect that _our_ association will continue in an amiable manner?"

"No," John admits. "I guess I was just wondering what it means to you." 

"Ahh." They walk a bit farther before the Wraith continues, "To share life between us binds us together, in a way that is unlike any other connection. It is a significant bond between Wraith and a mark of trust."

"Everyone you share life with is bound to you like this?" John's sure he sounds skeptical. 

The Wraith grins. "If they survive, of course. There is no bond that holds beyond death." 

John grunts, but it answers a bit of the question he didn't quite ask. He doesn't feel like he has bits of people floating around in him from the life the Wraith shared with him, just energy. He's not sure if that's better or worse. 

"With his brothers a Wraith may share everything," the Wraith continues. 

John blinks. "Everything?" 

"Everything," the Wraith assures him with a grin that would probably be lascivious if there were slightly fewer teeth involved.

"What's your name?" John asks instead of what he wants to ask. 

The Wraith laughs. " _Name_? Such a human question."

"If you don't want to give it to me, I'm pretty good at coming up with ones on my own," John warns. 

The Wraith's laughter deepens. John is annoyed that he really likes the sound. 

"Wraith do not have _names_ ," the Wraith says. "Not in the way humans use, as _labels_." His highly amused eyes settle on John. "I could title you in turn as a _Wraith_ would, or as a _brother_ would. It would be very different." He chuckles again. 

John's a bit more annoyed at this point, but as he's about to respond the Wraith goes completely still. 

John knows that look on any soldier's face and brings up his stolen rifle. He listens but doesn't hear anything. 

"Four men," the Wraith says. "This direction." He points, then spreads his fingers to indicate a larger area. "And more beyond them; many more."

"Great," John mutters. "Can you tell which direction is the gate?" 

The Wraith shakes his head. "It can be surmised that it lies within the heavily guarded area, but it is not something I can detect without instruments." 

The Wraith almost sounds like Rodney when John wants him to figure out something impossible immediately. "How close?" he asks.

The Wraith frowns. "Perhaps twenty fazling." 

John stops. "Twenty what?"

The Wraith looks at him. "It is the measure of the length of a fighter ship." 

"Oh. We call them darts," John observes as he does some conversions in his head. That's about two hundred and eighteen yards.

The Wraith gives him a look of such utter patience that John's suddenly the one amused. Like there's time for that now. "Okay, if they're coming slow we can-" 

The Wraith hisses him to silence, turning another way. "There are more, coming swiftly, that direction."

Shit, no time left for fucking around. John beckons the Wraith and starts off into the thickest part of the brush, at about a ninety degree angle between the two groups the Wraith had indicated.

They see the fast moving group- also heavily armed, John notes- move past them. John indicates to the Wraith that they should go in the direction that the group came from. If every soldier is out here looking for them, then it seems likely that the base, and possibly the Stargate, will be under-guarded. The Wraith follows him without protest. 

They pause for John to get a drink from a stream. He's getting really hungry. 

"How did you find the hot springs?" he asks. 

"The water is heated by geothermal energy," the Wraith replies. 

"You can sense that?"

The Wraith sighs. "It affects the magnetic fields in a noticeable manner. Can you _not_ sense it?" 

He asks it in a playful way, like he already knows the answer is _no,_ but John says, "Only on Tuesdays." 

The Wraith laughs, even though he can't have any clue what that means. 

The sun is sinking lower in the sky by the time they find any sign of human habitation. It's just a campsite, full of Genii, but John is hopeful they'll have a map of the area. He eyes his companion; they're crouched beside each other in the deep shadow behind a bush. "We wait till dark. When that patrol moves out, then it's just eight of them against two of us."

The Wraith chuckles under his breath. He's been way more relaxed about this entire adventure than he has any right to be; mostly he seems interested in _doing_ something rather than caring what that something _is_ , which John supposes he can understand. 

Of course, John's perfect plan to attack the camp gets FUBARed before he can put it into motion. Another patrol joins the camp before the first one leaves, and it's still light out when they notice they're being watched. 

They shoot indiscriminately at John and the Wraith, but John manages to not get hit in anything other than his pride, and even the Wraith seems to have developed a bit of a ducking reflex that's better than terrible. 

They're running through the trees when John's foot catches on a root and he stumbles, landing on his hands and knees in the mud. He's tired, and he's a half a second too slow in standing which turns out to be a good thing as a bullet goes whistling over his head. John hears the sound of more bullets in the trees, and the Wraith grunts. 

"Run," John grunts back. 

The Wraith gives him a pitying look. John doesn't have the time, or the breath, to explain that one of them free is better than both captured or dead. But he forgot who he was talking to again. Once they find the gate the Wraith will probably eat him and be done with everything. 

John pushes himself back to his feet just as the forest starts to look a little washed out, a little less real. The Wraith reaches for John, his expression slightly alarmed, but his hand passes right through the space where John thought he'd been standing. 

John blinks, and he's standing in the _Daedalus_ infirmary. 

" _Sheppard_ ," he hears McKay say, voice rough and pleased. John feels Ronon’s hand on his arm. It’s Teyla who, while still pleased to see him, has a questioning quality to her look, and then Beckett appears in John’s line of sight, frowning slightly as he takes in his patient. “Good God, man. What happened? We saw the creature feed, but you look...” He holds out his hand as if in search of a medical diagnosis.

John inhales, drawing in the familiar scents and presence of his team and it makes the last days feel even more like a weird dream. “He… reversed it. Gave it back.”

Ronon frowns. Rodney looks confused. Teyla seems more concerned. 

Beckett seems to shrug off the discrepancy for the moment. He says to his earpiece, “I have him here, Colonel, you can take us away from this godforsaken planet.”

“No, wait.” John reaches for his ear, but Kolya took his radio. “There was another prisoner, we escaped together.” 

“Well unless they have a subcutaneous transmitter, all the life signs on the surface look the same,” Rodney observes.

John grits his teeth. “He was standing next to me, right before you snatched me up.”

Beckett and Rodney are talking to someone but John’s not hearing the entire conversation so he doesn’t realize what’s about to happen until Rodney says, “Yes, yes, that’s fine. Sheppard didn’t say, but anyone who’s been in close contact with Kolya for an extended length of time is going to need to have Carson look them over.” 

“ _Wait_ ,” John says again, but he’s too late, because the next thing he hears is snarling and alarmed shouts. “ _Stop_ ,” John demands. He’s already throwing himself up from the infirmary bed where he’d been leaning and in between Ronon and the Wraith. “ _Ronon_ , stop.”

There is a lot of yelling and screaming going on, but the amazing thing is that the Wraith seems to not be escalating matters. He’s appeared about where John had a few moments ago, looking around in alarm, right hand raised in threat. But he’s focused in on John, and John’s voice, and hasn’t outright attacked anyone. He moves to put the wall at his back and lowers his right hand, slightly. 

John doesn’t have a lot of attention to spare for him, because he’s got it all focused on Ronon. And maybe a bit for Teyla too, but she doesn’t have a gun at the moment.

“It’s okay,” John says. He’s standing directly between Ronon and the Wraith, blocking the Wraith from Ronon’s weapon with his body.

Ronon eases off the weapon, responding to Jon’s earlier command, but his expression is confused and antagonistic.

“Who’s your friend?” Rodney asks, alarm evident in his caustic tone.

“We escaped together,” John repeats. 

“John, we saw what he did to you,” Teyla says, her voice soft and reasonable.

“And he undid it,” John says. “More than once.”

Ronon’s lip curls, but when John holds out his hand Ronon hands him the magnum.

Teyla scowls. “As you know, the enzyme involved in the feeding process is addictive.”

“He saved my life.” John reaches into his pocket and pulls out what’s left of his shirt and hands it to her. “Teyla, I was wearing my insides on the outside. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be standing here.”

“You _are_ friends with that thing.” Ronon sounds disappointed. 

John turns to look at the Wraith. “I wouldn’t say friends,” he temporizes.

The Wraith is watching him carefully. “I thought that you had left,” he says. Ronon tenses at the sound of his voice, and the Wraith looks at him warily. He doesn't say it here, but John had seen the Wraith’s face in the seconds before he’d “left.” It had been a betrayal of what had been between them. 

“I said we’d both make it off the planet,” John says, and he means it. But he can’t have a Wraith just wandering around the _Daedalus_ , so he flicks Ronon’s magnum settings and raises the weapon. The Wraith narrows his eyes and braces himself against the blow, but he doesn’t look quite as put out; apparently getting shot is less of a betrayal than abandonment. The Wraith crumples to the floor of the infirmary. John passes the weapon back to Ronon.

“So _we_ can’t shoot him but you can?” Rodney mutters. “That a perk reserved just for friends?”

Ronon glances at the magnum’s setting. “You know you didn’t kill him.”

“Not friends,” John murmurs, and to Ronon, “Yeah I know.” He crouches beside the Wraith; he means to check his pulse but it’s kind of pointless on a Wraith anyway and John finds his hand detouring to the Wraith’s shoulder and tracing the outline of the holes in his coat where the bearcat had bitten him.

Teyla comes to stand beside John and ask the important questions. “If he is not your friend, then what is he?”

“We’re brothers,” John says, the words feeling weird in his mouth but true. He stands up. “We’re gonna drop him on a planet. Help me drag him to a jumper.”

Rodney still looks confused but resigned. Ronon looks like he’s smelled something unpleasant and isn’t sure yet what he thinks about it. Teyla just looks thoughtful.

“Not before you get checked!” Beckett protests. 

“Doc, I’m fine. Really.” Honestly, John has no idea what he is, but he’s currently mobile and he wants to get this finished before that becomes an obstacle. He tries, “I want to get this taken care of. Then you can sit me down and do all the tests you want.”

Maybe Beckett finds that excuse acceptable, or maybe John’s team pick up the Wraith and hustle him to a jumper faster than Beckett can protest. However it works, the end result is that Rodney’s flying the jumper with input from Teyla while John sits on the bench seat in the rear of the shuttle and looks at the Wraith while Ronon watches both of them.

John rubs the raw place on his chest. It’s been a long few days, and, somehow, he thinks what happened here isn't just going to go away. It's taken hold of him- it's bitten deep, and it's not going to be letting go.


End file.
